A Certain Lady
by be93
Summary: Sequel to 'A Certain Rose'. The legend has begun, and now there is no turning back, but will all the people of the future embrace their destiny, and will others get left behind?
1. The Inbetween

**I have to admit it feels very funny doing this again. I haven't published anything in a very long time, I've been working on a number of stories and scripts when time has allowed and have been incredibly picky over them, and decided to finish them before publishing them. I tended to rush into stories before I had much written out and as a result they lost popularity and tended to fall flat! Enough about that though... over to our new story, or shall we say sequel. And my first sequel!**

**Again I have to admit this very nearly did not make it here, I was encouraged by some new reviewers to 'A Certain Rose' and then seeing the previews for Series 3 (which airs tonight, told you I'd try to make it all coincide!) got me all excited, and so I re-read 'A Certain Rose' and got cracking with this. I know a left 'A Certain Rose' on a cliffhanger, so this just picks up from where we left off, and I really hope you enjoy it. I've loved getting back into writing - especially these characters! I warn you now, this sequel wont be as cheery as the last, it is darker and less humourous, but I hope in the great grand scheme of things that doesn't matter too much. It's where it's all been heading after all.**

**Which remind me to remind you - if you haven't read 'A Certain Rose' do! Else a great deal of this won't make sense and I wouldn't want you to miss out!**

**So here we go, as always, and once again, please do review, and if anything is not clear then don't worry, all is going to be explained... if it still doesn't make sense by the time the story is completed, then do ask me questions!**

**Are we ready? Right then, let us begin on a new adventure...**

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Chapter One; The In-between.

She had seen the searing white light in her dreams, and she had seen the darkness; blue, deep and empty. Now she had lived them, and they were connected, first the pure, white light, then the great expanse of dark. She had dreamed true, seen true, she had foreseen her own future, and yet had not realised what it fully entailed. Dreams were not always simple, easy or clear-cut, they were twisted, symbolic, with hidden meanings that had to be prized open, thought through, lived and seen over and over – and she was doing this, she was living it, she was learning and changing and adapting.

This new power, this extended knowledge it no longer scared her, it no longer felt like a weight or a nuisance, it wasn't a pain, it was all there was to it. For now she lived what she saw, and for the greater part of the day merely saw the future, and living in the future wasn't dreadful, she had known that at some point she would have to stop running from the future, stop being a dream runner, and she had, for now the future engrossed her, it absorbed her, she lived in the future, and less in the present. In stopping running from it, in being forced to end her present state she gave in, fell in, to this future, she had to live and breathe it, for it was her destiny. It was what she had been born, and raised, and lived to do and the thought of such audacity, such weight and authority and power, it didn't fill her with fear and dread as it used to, she had accepted it. She had welcomed it. She had to otherwise she wouldn't be here, otherwise the events that had to take place, wouldn't.

She wouldn't be the famed one; she would often be forgotten, omitted, changed or manipulated in future stories. She realised that she had to be selfless, she lived for others, and these others would be those that legend would fondly remember, the ones that were instrumental, key, the ones that the young children would want to play in games. Likewise they would fall from favour, be played differently, seen through different eyes; they would be loved, cherished, hated, despised and ignored by hosts of future generations. Those four. They were the main characters, only this wasn't story, but truth - not myth but legend – she was merely a supporter. This is how it should be, how it was, and how it would be, and how it had always been planned.

Only she wasn't quite done yet, the transformation wasn't complete; she was neither one nor the other. She was in a peaceful midpoint, though the end was speeding nearer and nearer, while she still had ties to the outside world, still had pulls, alliances, more so than she should, she would remain this way. Only when they let her go would she be totally free. Though the thought of the freedom did scare her slightly still, it was her remaining fear, though she knew the material world would always be there, and she could enter it on command, and would in the near future, and in decades to come – while there would be moments for her to leave this new home and enter her old one, significant occasions, engraved in time – soon she wouldn't be needed there as she was now. When that moment arrived, she would fully embrace the darkness, and once again the darkness would become light.

For then she would be a certain lady.


	2. Drawing Lines and Choosing Sides

**Thanks for the response to the first chapter, hope you enjoy this next one. As always please read and review - good and bad - if you have any improvements or suggestions I'd love to here them! Enjoy!**

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Chapter Two; Drawing Lines and Choosing Sides.

Morgana raced down the corridor, standing on the hemline of her dress, she yanked it up so her pale ankles and calves were on show – she no longer cared for propriety or decorum, she had seen Arthur riding into the courtyard from her bedroom window, which she had kept a vigil by since Merlin and Rose had left and now she had to know what news he held.

Sitting by her pane of glass, she had had time to think, being alone she could simply be still and listen to the voices in her head. After letting Rose and Merlin leave she had exited Gaius' apartments swiftly, for fear of being caught there and questioned. In spite of it all, she had promised Rose that she wouldn't cause trouble, and that meant she still needed to keep a low profile, which included not being present when the Knights came to search for a witch with a death warrant – even if it was her best friend. She had been relieved to enter her chamber and to not see Gwen; her face was one which Morgana would have had incredible difficulty facing at that moment – one she still wasn't looking forward to see - because even though she had promised Rose to forgive Gwen and to let the future run its course, she simply couldn't. The worst part was that Rose knew she couldn't and wouldn't. Gwen had committed a great act of betrayal, and to Morgana breaking such a loyal bond was unforgivable, she had effectively turned her back on Morgana, their friendship, and her friendship with Rose. Morgana couldn't see a just reason for such an act, and frankly she did not like what she saw for Gwen's future. Often there were visions which were unpleasant, unwanted and she whole-heartedly wished she'd never witnessed, but Gwen's was something that Rose seemed to believe was immovable, unchangeable, and worst of all, already set in motion. Morgana was determined that while she, Gwen, and the one other whose future was being decided were living under one roof, in one town, and imminent space she would be doing everything in her power to stop the relationship developing. Gwen would not marry Arthur, and she would not become Queen. Of that Morgana was most adamant.

So while sitting and waiting, in case Knights returned – with or without Rose, and therefore Merlin – Morgana had let her mind take over. She had fully encompassed her gift, after all she owed it to her friend, and now she was more determined than ever to see magic victorious.

As early light broke, and the sun was beginning to show its face over the battlements and turrets of Camelot Palace, a lone grey stallion had slowly walked into the courtyard. Atop it was Prince Arthur, and Morgana did not like the look of his solemn face. Wasting not a second, and having waited all night for such a moment, she had run to the door, and headed towards the courtyard herself.

With her dressed hitched up and a fistful of rich fabric scrunched in her hand, Morgana had almost leapt down the stairs, where Uther was already stood at the base. Arthur slid down from the saddle of his horse and briefly glanced at Morgana before heading towards his father. It didn't need to be long, one quick, fleeting look was all Morgana needed, her fist relaxed, the material cascaded to the floor, and her emerald eyes became misty and looked to the cool stone floor as she processed his blue-eyed glimpse.

His voice was unmistakeably sad – though the grief was misconstrued by Uther for the Knights as opposed to the declared witch – but it had a ring of authority to it. He relayed the loss of the men to Uther, explaining he simply could not carry the bodies, before answering the king's question as to the whereabouts of the girl they were after;

"She is gone."

As if Morgana needed any greater confirmation, she had it there.

"Well that is one less witch for the kingdom to contend with,"

It was too much, passion over took her, and spread from her head to her toes, firing up every limb and organ in her being.

"She was just a girl!" Uther turned round to see his ward, noticeably closer than before. "She was just a young woman, and you've killed her!"

Uther was struck by the sheer pain running through her voice. She sounded distraught, grieved, and inconsolable, like a mother who had lost their child, a lover who had lost their other half – the other part to their being.

"Morgana, please…"

"Uther Pendragon, I will never forget this!"

Now anger filled her speech, firing rage, and uncontrollable fury. He grabbed her arm, holding her in a death-like vice and hissed;

"If I were you, I would not make too greater deal of this. She was not the only caught, but the only one I chose to deal with, that can very easily be reversed,"

He expected to see fear in her eyes, he expected her jaw to soften, the muscles in her taught arm to relax. She did not do what he expected, and it was at this moment, that Uther realised he knew little of his ward, and worse, he could do little to stop her.

"She was my friend," Morgana simply stated, her voice beginning to break at the end of her sentence, and here they drew their lines, here they chose their sides and alliances – and they were not with each other, they would not fight the same cause, and each other knew it.

Arthur broke Uther's iron grip, and wrapped his right arm around the front of Morgana's waist, dragging her off to her room, she let him, fighting mildly at first, before giving into the strong man's direction, but all the while staring over his shoulder at the king – and the enemy.

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He closed the door behind him.

Morgana stood there looking at him, and all of a sudden, appeared very small and frail.

"I thought," she paused, refusing to let the tears get the better of her "I thought perhaps you could save her,"

Though he did not like to admit it, tears almost claimed him too "Me too,"

"You are in charge of them Arthur, why didn't you stop them? Why did you let them kill her? Tell me Arthur, for right now I see little use of your authority and might while she is," a low moan escaped from her body "dead."

The word was so final, so definite. There was no coming back from it and yet Arthur seemed so calm.

"I didn't say she was dead,"

Morgana forehead broke into a number of thin lines. "You told Uther she was gone."

"Yes, gone, not dead,"

All at once joy began to spread in Morgana and a small smile seemed to peek through the previous misery. "She's -"

"No," his negative answer dashed any hope Morgana had mustered in the short moment before hand. Arthur took her hands and guided her over to the edge of the bed where they both sat.

"She is dead, and for that I am sorry, I know how close you two were, but there is something. I… this will sound peculiar, but when she died we were by the lake, you know the one," he took her small nod as confirmation "and as she went, the lake began to rise, and as me and Merlin ran from the rising water, this blinding light shone across the place and I don't know what it means, but when we looked back her body was gone."

Morgana's emerald orbs bore into his sky blue ones. She looked like a lost child, or one which you had just told off, she looked utterly distraught, confused and disorientated.

"I thought it might be something. I don't know, but Morgana, she did have magic, she told me,"

It was a good thing Arthur was looking into his lap at this moment, for he did not see the shock that wiped over Morgana's face, then the soft smile, and the realisation that Arthur knew but had not told Uther.

"I don't know what Uther hissed at you before I took you here, but I would advise you to be careful."

Morgana merely looked at him. She did not need to tell him that he was committing a crime in not telling his father, she did not need to say to him that he had accepted magic, and was not fighting it. Likewise he did not need to tell her, that unlike what his father believed, it wasn't Rose that had murdered the Knights with her 'magic' but himself, albeit with her help and Merlin's. These facts lay between them; they hung in the air, weighing it down.

Arthur stood up. "Promise me you will not anger Uther?"

"I will be sensible" Morgana conceded. She no longer made promises; she would not commit herself to something or someone in that way again. She would allow them to believe that their words meant something to her, that she followed their advice, thoughts and words but that was merely a lie they believed.

"I need to go and find someone else now, will you be ok here?"

"I will be fine," she answered.

He nodded, and headed for the door, hesitating, then as if he had decided against something in his head, left through the doorway and shut the heavy wood behind him. As his boots echoed more and more quietly Morgana smiled; there was one more thing that hung between them, one more unsaid fact, or thought, one which Arthur had just shown he couldn't bring himself to speak or say;

As Rose had magic, and she and Morgana were so close, had Morgana known, and if so did she possess such powers too?

In truth, both knew the answer, though for one is was a fact that pulled at the back of their head, which kept nudging them. For Arthur had to accept that the feeling at the pit of his stomach was the truth; Morgana did possess magic. And not just that but perhaps, just perhaps, magic wasn't so bad after all.


	3. A Few Words of Truth

Chapter Three; A Few Words of Truth.

Arthur entered his chambers, and on closing the door let his emotions take over him. His shoulders sunk, the heavy chain mail and armour weighed down on him, and he pathetically tried to claw it off. Giving up, he turned to the side table and dipped his hands into the cool water there, splashing it over his face, he recalled a task he needed to do, and withdrew his sword.

The beautiful sword, which had been his Christmas present from a mystery source, was stained with blood. His knights' blood, who he had slain. He grabbed a small cloth from next to the bowl of water and dipping it in began to tirelessly scrub at the red and brown stains that covered it. All the tears which had been held in fell down, making streaks down his chiselled face and splashing onto his sword. He cried for the loss of his knights, he cried for the position he found himself in, he wept for the loss of a friend. Morgana was right – what use was his power and might if he could not save the ones he cared about? He knew he did not care about Rose half as much as Merlin did, and then the tears flowed for his friend, for he could not imagine the pain and suffering he would be feeling now.

Despite making it clean, Arthur kept scrubbing, kept wiping his sword, and was oblivious to her entering the room, until she laid her hands over his. The one he had left Morgana to find.

"Arthur, stop, please, it is clean." His hands released their grip and the cloth fell to the table, as did the sword with an almighty clatter. Arthur looked up into her eyes, and for once did not feel stupid for showing his emotions.

"I couldn't save her; I couldn't save her, Guinevere."

Gwen refused to let the shock she felt show on her face and instead reassuringly squeezed the hands of her prince. She marvelled at the way her smaller, darker hands could offer him comfort. She moved one of her hands to his wet cheek, and he covered it with one of his own.

"You cannot save them all, Arthur,"

It wasn't just a piece of advice, meaningless words which are supposed to comfort, but both the giver and receiver know aren't true, what Gwen spoke was the truth; she did not hide that from him. It wasn't easy to accept, it wasn't supposed to be, but it was fact and Arthur was quickly realising that he needed to acknowledge these hard hitting facts and do something with them. She took back her hands and went over to the side table and picked up the sword which she had made, slaved over, and which she knew Arthur still did not know she'd made. She slid it back into his belt and looked up at him.

"But I know that you will tirelessly try to save everyone, and that is what makes you you."

She smiled at him, and then turned to leave his chambers, opening the large, heavy door.

"Guinevere, wait please," She turned round to look at him "Stay?"

The door closed, shutting them both inside. It appeared that the one thing that Morgana so wished not to occur, was already spiralling out of control. What Morgana failed to realise was that it wasn't just Gwen's destiny to become Queen; it was Arthur's to make her Queen.

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The door was not locked which made it easier for Merlin to enter his home. A home he had not expected to ever return to, yet here he was, and this time he was alone. He didn't walk through and expect to see her face, or to see her sitting in a chair engrossed in a book. He knew she wouldn't be tenderly folding up washing, or making dinner for him and Gaius, nor would she be sleeping in their room, or tidying it up. She wasn't building a fire, or placing buckets around the rooms to collect rainwater. Neither was she out walking around Camelot Castle on an errand for Gaius, she would not walk through the door, which he had just entered from, for she couldn't. For she was gone.

Not that acknowledging that fact made it any easier to deal with. For it wasn't, as Merlin walked to his room – for it was his now, and not theirs – he contemplated how alone he was, and how miserable it was to be alone once more. The lake had lit up, and he had seen her, his impatience to turn around meant he had seen something that Arthur hadn't, Rose, held in mid air, floating above the water, levitating and he had smiled. He had smiled to see her looking so beautiful, like an angel, a royal, her blonde curls delicately laid around her shoulders, when he knew they had previously been tied up. When he'd held her in his arms they had been neatly piled up on the back of her head, with a few stray ones framing her face, having fallen down from their lengthy run and then the bloody fight, and yet as he looked at her seemingly hovering above the lake, they cascaded down her back. It was if she had been cleansed, restored, made pure once again – not that to him she had ever been otherwise – not to him at least. Her eyes were closed and a soft smile played on her lips, the horrible wound across her stomach was healed, and her sky blue dress was clean and untainted, not covered in her blood and his tears. She looked perfect, stunning and so Merlin had smiled. Then the light had vanished, quickly fading and when he had blinked she was gone, then neither her body was by the side of the lake, or floating above it. She had disappeared, and he had no idea to where, and his head hurt, it pounded, throbbing constantly and the feeling would not go away, and he could still taste her on his lips and feel her hand tugging at his shirt but she was so definitely not there.

He had looked at the scene of carnage around him, the fallen Knights, and he had known that they would all receive a proper burial; they would all be taken back to Camelot and be mourned and wept for by many, but the one which he grieved for would not. For she would be blamed for all their deaths, she would become a scapegoat, and an example to others. He realised that he would not even have a gravestone to touch, a grave to visit and weep and remember. All he was left with was an empty space by an aquamarine lake.

Arthur had looked at him, and begun walking back the way they had run. Merlin did not move. He did not know whether he wanted to return, for Camelot had become a place where she was, and now she would not be there. It was the place where the man who had exiled her and placed a death order on her head was, but it was also where his friend Arthur was returning, and his father-like figure Gaius stayed. It was still where he called home, just without her. It was where he worked and belonged, and yet he had the very strong urge to continue on the journey away from it, a journey he had started as a pair and would now finish alone. He looked to see that Arthur had stopped walking and was now turned, looking at him.

"She wouldn't want you to be alone, Merlin,"

Merlin remembered her words; he knew that he had to work with Arthur now, that he was the other half of his destiny. So for that he followed Arthur's way to Camelot. As they had neared the castle, they had split up with Merlin taking the back entrance and Arthur the front; Arthur knew he had to face Uther, and Merlin wasn't supposed to have left the castle in the first place. So he had crept through back passageways, and had arrived back at his home unnoticed by anyone.

Now as he sat on the bed which she had slept in for the past months, the tears silently trickled down his cheeks, as he mourned the loss for Rose. He lay down on the bed, curled his feet up and closed his tried eyes. Still his head thumped…

He saw Arthur striding towards him a broad smile on his face as they entered a large room filled with Knights. Gwen wearing diamonds in her ears and a large amber necklace. A funeral, with less weeping then expected. A wedding with white roses and lilies. A jousting competition; Arthur victorious, lifting a trophy above his head. The aquamarine lake, the brown floor and great fir trees. Sun, and dark, the sound of dripping water. Another funeral and the sound of himself crying. Snow, sun, rain and storms. Shouting and hissing, swords clashing against one another. Uther defiant, and Morgana alone in her room. A bright shining light, and then her; Rose in beautiful splendour, a smile on her face, golden tresses beautifully curled, framing her face. Then he was plunged into darkness, bubbling darkness, pushing down on him, and he shook on the bed, his head shaking, trying desperately to wake himself up, to stop this dream, this nightmare, and then he heard those beautiful words and he opened his eyes;

"I'm here, Merlin, I'm here"

He looked into her blue orbs and all at once his head stopped thumping.


	4. Here When You Need Me

**Apologies for the wait, I hope you enjoy this chapter and tonight's episode. I really like this chapter and hope you do too - thanks for the subscriptions, keep them coming, and please do write a review to let me know what you're thinking!**

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Chapter Four; Here When You Need Me.

"You're…"

"Here."

He smiled at her response, she was here. It was the first smile since the one by the shining lake, and though that had only been a matter of hours ago, it felt like an age since his face muscles had moved in this way.

Still sitting on the bed, she was sitting on a chair against the opposite wall.

"You said 'I'll be there when you need me most' and you are,"

"Did you ever doubt me?" Merlin shook his head "It hurts doesn't it?"

"My head – yes,"

"It gets better, I promise. You learn to live with it, accommodate it; soon it's just a dull ache at the back of your mind,"

"Does it never truly go away?"

"I never had the chance to find out"

There it was still, the fact that she was gone, that she was still dead. Merlin didn't understand, how it could be, how she could be here and yet still spoke as if she had passed.

"You will though, and then you can tell me,"

"I'm not going to die soon?"

Rose smiled "No, of course not. Still, don't go round as if your skin is metal; you're not invincible,"

"But I can see…"

"Yes, I'm not sure whether I've given you a gift or a curse,"

"How? Why?"

"It was time Merlin, the legend is unfolding and in it you can see true, you can witness the future, and have recall of the past. It was my destiny to give that to you. People don't just walk into your life by chance, Merlin; people have purpose and meaning,"

"You had a greater meaning to me that just that,"

Rose tried to smile the tears away.

Merlin continued "The dragon knew, he said to me: 'Rose is important Merlin, a key part for your future, she will play a large role, but will it be too late?'"

"It almost was too late,"

"When you met him, he spoke to you about something too; about light and dark and water; dripping. What did he mean?"

"I can't say, you'll have to wait Merlin,"

"I don't want to," and he sounded hurt, wounded and pained. He had waited with her, and where had that got him?

Rose shook her head, as he got up from the bed and began walking over to him. She attempted to back away but the chair she was seated in was already firm against the wall.

"Merlin, don't, please don't…"

He went to touch her shoulder, but all he gained was a fistful of air. Again and again he grabbed with nothing, he looked at her shocked and pained and she looked back at him with misty eyes.

"But you're here…"

"I'm here because you need be, and I am called to be here for you, but I'm not… physically. You can hear me, and see me but you can't touch me, likewise neither can I,"

As if to prove her point she held out her hand as if to touch his chest but her hand just hovered in front of his chest.

Tears threatened to fall from all eyes in the room. The silence meant that the door was easily heard.

"That will be Gaius" Merlin walked over to the door, and Rose stood up. "He'll want to see you,"

Still the eyes were filled with tears, when would he stop feeling like this? He couldn't not when he saw her equally upset, distressed and emotional.

"He can't" she whispered, shaking her head.

Merlin's forehead creased. "I don't understand…"

"It's only you,"

"Merlin?" The older man's voice could be heard just outside the door

"In here!"

Rose shook her head, and lifted her hand to wave. The door swung open, and Merlin turned to face Gaius.

"There you are," he pulled Merlin into an embrace "Uther told me. He trusts us, so won't press charges. I know that won't mean a great deal, but it is something,"

Gaius let Merlin go and nodded, leaving the room to give the young man some space.

Merlin turned his head round to look to where she had been standing, and shut his eyes in pain. She was gone.


	5. Attempts at Moving On and Letting Go

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for the reviews for last chapter - if you haven't already please so review; its nice to know what you're thinking as you read it! Enjoy!**

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Chapter Five; Attempts at Moving On and Letting Go.

"I'm sorry he forced you into something you did not want to do,"

"Don't be sorry for me, be sorry for those I hurt doing it,"

"You are so selfless Guinevere, but it is you I feel for,"

Gwen blushed at Arthur's words. She felt humbled and fortunate to have such a great prince feel such loyalty towards her, he had asked her to stay so they could speak about the position of spy Uther had placed her in. She had told him how horrible she felt prying on Rose and Morgana's talks, searching their rooms and putting them back together again. She spoke of how low she had felt, how base her actions were, and how she hated herself for doing it, merely so she could keep her home, her job, her position.

Arthur had tried to make her feel better about it, when Rose had admitted to him that she did have magic, he had realised that Gwen's conversation with him before he left Camelot was indeed the truth, and he had been blind to what she was saying. So caught up in his feelings, and his perfect ideal of her, it had nearly cost him – it had cost him, all the same, for he had lost a dear friend, caused Merlin great pain, and in covering the evidence slain his own men. Nothing it seemed was simply black or white, and the choices he made in the grey in between were what were going to define him as king. Had he not killed the Knights then they would have reported Merlin's involvement, and then Merlin would be sat in a prison cell waiting execution – Arthur knew that this was not an outcome he would have been happy with – but he still felt enormous guilt for killing men he classed as his own, his colleagues. Then again, their blind following of Uther, and inability to see magic as a good thing was incredibly frustrating and Arthur now knew that he couldn't accept such ignorance. It was true not all magic was good, far from it, but there were those like Rose who proved it could be a positive thing, it could be a force of good, a gift rather than a curse, and there were those who wouldn't use it maliciously or for their own purpose or gain. Arthur wanted these people to come out from their hiding places, and to be able to be honest with everyone, what kind of kingdom was it where people had to be ashamed of whom they were? And, he reasoned, if he were to be accepting of magic, and to advocate it rather than oppressing it, perhaps these magicians would not use their magic badly, perhaps in Uther's strangling of it he turned them against him. He was the cause of his own downfall, of his own destiny.

"Guinevere, do you think that magic can be good as well as bad?"

Gwen wasn't sure how to answer, she trusted Arthur and knew this wasn't a trap or a trick question, but it had been drummed into the people of Camelot from a young age, not to be supportive of magic, to say anything that may involve your head being placed on the block, or your body burned.

"I don't know, I suppose I would have to see it at work to truly judge, not that Uther would allow that,"

Arthur looked into her eyes and smiled "No, but what if I were to?"

"Surely not while the king is still alive?"

Arthur shook his head "No, he wouldn't understand it, or condone it, even if it were I that were to ask for the ban to be lifted. No, I meant when I am King,"

Gwen smiled to hear this young man speak so avidly of the position, but tricky life that awaited him "When you are King Arthur, you are free to choose what laws are made or lifted, who to outlaw or welcome with open arms. It's your court and kingdom and you have free reign to do as you please,"

"Within reason, of course I have a council to speak to, and trusted Knights who will no doubt have their own opinions. I don't want to make stupid mistakes, or break bonds and friendships that are then irreconcilable. I want to create a kingdom in which bribery, and deceit is not accepted. I want to make sure that what happened to you does not happen again."

Here Arthur took her hand in his and stroked the back of her coffee coloured skin with his calloused thumb. Gwen smiled at the way his rough skin felt on her smooth, how pale his skin looked in comparison to hers, she liked how they were polar opposites and yet still so close. How far, yet how close; a servant girl, and a king with such huge ambitions, it made her smile to think of the future he envisaged and she hoped that somewhere, somehow she could be part of it. Whether it was her that cleaned the plates he ate off, wiped the floors, cleaned the rooms he lived in, or whether she could be something more. She knew that however unlikely that was, it was what she really wanted, for she could not imagine cleaning and making a bed which he shared with his wife, if she was not that woman. She blushed for thinking of him so intimately, but she knew deep down, in her heart of hearts, that being his wife was what she wanted more than anything – she cared not for the crown, the throne and position, she just wished to be able to do what she couldn't do now. She wanted to be able to walk down the castle corridor holding his hand, she wanted to be held in his arms and feel his heart beating, and she wanted to know what it felt to have his lips on hers.

For now though, Gwen was a servant who needed to continue with her duties, there was the king's small chamber to clean and on it's table laying out the crockery for tonight's dinner. She also had her own dinner to prepare and cook, and then she would be back in the evening to clean up from dinner, in between all of this she had a great deal of linen to wash and dry. As much as she loved and cherished time with Arthur, reality kept pulling her back.

* * *

Merlin swallowed, the soup didn't sit right in his stomach but Gaius forced him to eat, in fact he was watching him across the table as he attempted to finish the small bowlful that had been placed in front of him. A hunk of newly baked bread sat next to it, and from time to time Merlin picked at it, he knew Gaius had finished his soup long ago, despite his larger portion, but Merlin simply couldn't get it all down. His chest felt tight, and he had to forcibly move his jaw to chew the bread. He kept sipping water to try and wash it all down but it was as if he were a child again and learning how to eat.

It caused Gaius much pain to see him like this, he was used to Merlin being chirpy and cheery, a great deal more so since Rose had arrived, he was used to jokes, banter and flowing conversation when they sat down for dinner. He supposed that that were part of the problem, Merlin was used to looking opposite to see Rose, or next to him, their hands bashing as they went to pick up cutlery next to each other. The sound of three spoons collecting soup and occasionally bashing teeth, the inevitable slurp of soup no matter how many times he reprimanded such a sound. Gaius realised that such normal, everyday activities were going to be incredibly strange without the girl he had come to love and accept as his daughter. The ache he felt was nothing to what Merlin must be feeling, he had understood that the news that Uther was not going to charge either of them wouldn't be a joyous occasion but it did relieve him greatly, even if not Merlin. He assumed that in some ways Merlin wished he had been caught too, or Uther had realised his involvement with Rose, or had simply arrested him for being friends with a witch. This hurt Gaius even more that Merlin might wish to be dead or facing execution to be with her, in truth though he knew they were close but he had not realised quite how much so until now, the bond he had assumed had been sibling-like though he now realised it was probably something quite stronger. Not that he would push this with Merlin, if the young man wanted to tell him he would in his own time then he would most certainly listen, and if it was something that he did not want to discuss then Gaius would equally understand this.

Merlin lay down his spoon, giving up on the remainder of the soup, he picked a little more at the bread and then gave that up too, throwing it in the half empty bowl, and watched as it turned from its creamy brown colour to red as it soaked up the residue of the tomato soup. Merlin looked at it, and was reminded of how the blood seeped through the material, how the red patch had grew and grew and no magic could stop it, how he had wanted to staunch the flow of blood but his hands seemed useless and so did his gifts. Then he was burdened with another, which was all the more painful since it was it was hers, given to him. He couldn't dream without waking to think of her, his small nap after her appearance had been so painful, he didn't want to close his eyes tonight for fear of what he might see, and for fear of feeling the loss of her even more strongly. Merlin did not realise that tears were streaming down his face till Gaius removed the bowl they had been collecting in, and Merlin saw them hitting the table. Then he cried even more for Gaius would wash two bowls, and with all his heart Merlin wished it were three.

* * *

Morgana was tired, the emotions that had been running through her were painful and exhausting, and she had been trying to think, desperately trying to think of an answer as to how to make Rose's death mean something and how to make the destinies that she had seen not come true.

It seemed an age since she had run to tell her best friend that she was sentenced to death, that Uther knew, that he had found out and that Gwen was responsible yet in had been but a day. She had realised that Gwen had held nothing back, that she had told Uther everything, she knew that Uther was suspicious but that he couldn't believe that what Gwen had said was true, he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that she had magic, that the ward he had looked after since she was orphaned had the one thing he hated most in the world. It could be that he just thought that Rose had influenced her, that she briefly been tempted by the idea of magic, and that now Rose was gone such behaviour would disappear. Morgana hoped this was the truth, for this was the line she would take, and she would play on it, she would act innocent, pretend to listen to Uther's words and warnings, look as if she abided by his rules and regulations but in private she would do anything but.

She had lost her best friend, Rose who was like a sister with her, a confidante, and her ally, the one person who knew and understood what it was like. Now she was gone Morgana felt alone once more, but this time she would not be the poor soul overwhelmed by her powers, this time she would use them, this time they would not be put to waste and attempted to be brushed aside. She would take no draughts or potions, medicine to 'cure' her for she needed no healing; she was healthy and strong and so was her magic and the only way it would grow would be by her encouragement of it. She had become stronger when Rose was there, and she would continue this growing power even though she had gone; nothing would stand in her way now. If Morgana could move on, could overcome the loss of Rose, then, she reasoned, she could do anything and nothing could stop her. She would be a force to be reckoned with, and though she loved her friend's visions and dreams she wouldn't let them come true. What Morgana failed to realise was that in making this decision, she was doing exactly what Rose had dreamed and she would live out the vision that Rose had seen, that Morgana so strongly swore against.


	6. A Painful Interlude

Chapter Six; A Painful Interlude.

Time was infinite. It was as if it didn't exist. Days flowed into days, hours were spent looking into the future, as so very little time was spent awake, looking into the large open expanse of darkness, the swirl of blue, green and black, it took a lot to look up into the slightly lighter colours. Yet there was always the promise that after all this darkness there would be light once more. There had been blinding light before this dripping darkness, and there would be light once again. To get to the light seemed easy; loose all ties with earth and its being, fully accept life here; life in the lake.

Only for her this was so much harder, she still had Merlin, and it pained her to watch him hurting. That was why she appeared to him, she was there when he needed her, when she was there he was in trouble or in need of support, help and comfort. She had to nurture the gift she had given him, the part of his destiny he was accustoming himself to, and she was there along the way, and once he had fully accepted his gift he would no longer require her, though he may long for her, she would not be able to go to him. This was the hardest part, and the part she did not wish to tell him, for every visit she made to him, it was one less time she would see him.

She longed for the days when they would sit in their room, laughing and reading, playing with magic, making it seem innocent and harmless. Such cheerful memories, the way his eyes caught hers across the table, or how she would catch him watching her read, or folding washing, the way he always, always wished her goodnight and sweet dreams, and would then comfort her if she woke up from one of her nightmares; one of the visions she now witnessed every day. Only now there was not the warm arms of Merlin to encompass her, but the great expanse of cold water to envelope her.

Slowly she would loose these memories, eventually she would not have the time to recall them, even if she had the ability, though her gift had been to witness the past, her body would become a shrine to history, and her head and mind the fortress of the future. Of the future she would not live out, but witness in her dreams. She missed the feeling of solid ground beneath her feet, the firmness of it, the safety you felt; secure in the knowledge there wasn't anywhere far you could go. Now she was suspended in water, so fluid and changeable, she did not feel secure here, but knew it was part of her destiny, and was sure that should it come to it, the water would shelter and protect her in the same way it encouraged her power and gift.

Change could be good or bad, while this stage was painful and hurt others, she knew that there were better things to come. She had seen the future too many times to know that it all ended badly. Uther's reign would end, Arthur would become Camelot's king and hero, and though not everyone would witness the whole legend completely unfold, their destiny was to see it start, to set it off on its journey and they were doing their job, they were making their mark and keeping the legend on its gentle and ever so slightly fragile course. Laws would change, the unthinkable would become reality, and Camelot would become a place of virtue, justice, mercy and legend. And from time to time, the setting of such a legend would move from the great palace and would instead focus on an aquamarine lake, a short ride from the heart of Camelot, where emerald fir trees grew and beautiful flowers grew by their trunks in such fertile land. It was this place a great lady would call home.


End file.
